


Surely Christmas Morning

by verus_janus (Methleigh)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Methleigh/pseuds/verus_janus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco lays in bed alone after taking the Dark Mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surely Christmas Morning

Draco lay in the moonlight, his room shadowed in a soft blue-grey of reflected light in the darkness. He was alone, listening to the sounds of his mother moving about in her room. Such sounds had soothed him, half-asleep, when he had been a child. He was a child no longer.

Something lay in contrast to the pure clean white sheets, the lambswool blanket and the coverlet, embroidered with white peacocks on a white ground. Something lay in contrast to his translucent skin, innocent and white in the cool pale light, blurred slightly when seen through his half-closed white lashes.

It was the brand that should have been pride, screaming black, edged in almost-black crimson of dried blood, spreading the angry scarlet of injury through the tender skin of his forearm.

He kept his arm held straight from his body, away from his heart, even though some small animal within him wanted to tuck it close for the pain. He willed himself to defy reality as he lay there alone. This was not his brand. This was not his life. Nothing was as it should have been. And oh, how he wished it were inconceivable and unbelievable.

This should have been a day as wonderful and important as his birthday. He should have had his father, proud and steady at his side. Yes, and the ghost of his grandfather should have smiled... not down, but across at him, hand on his shoulder as Draco became a man in solemn and familial ceremony.

Instead, his father was in prison. How could that have come to be? His mother’s eyes were afraid and his aunt’s eyes were mad. Where were his fellows? He had knelt alone of all his generation. He had taken the Dark Mark under threat, not from pride or choice. Afterwards, he had been closeted with the Dark Lord, his servants, and his snake. The half-man, who should have been great and whole, had laughed as he had laid a burden upon Draco’s shoulders, impossible to bear. The Malfoys had been born to be lords and princes. How could this be?

Draco lay in the moonlight. He lay awake, and came to pretend he was sleeping. Could he be sleeping? Could he be dreaming? He must be dreaming. This was nothing more than nightmare. Surely he would wake and it would be Christmas morning.


End file.
